


Talk Dirty To Me

by raisedbyhyenas



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Inept Sexting Via Morse Code, M/M, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5684203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbyhyenas/pseuds/raisedbyhyenas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preston Garvey is terrible at sexting, and MacCready can't talk dirty. It mostly works out, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty To Me

MacCready sighs, leaning back against the wall of the cabin. He's bored -- despite traveling to a relatively dangerous part of the Commonwealth, he's had absolutely nothing to do all day. Which isn't a bad thing, it's just... a boring thing. He wishes he'd brought a book or something. Heck, he'd settle even for that terrible old radio show Aubrey likes so much.

He's taken first watch; it's miserably cold out this far north and he regrets not bringing more clothing. Sometimes he really misses Little Lamplight -- it rarely got that cold in the caves, and even when it did, you could always pile in with some of the other kids for the added warmth and security. Even now, he still sleeps better when there’s someone else in the room with him.

His radio crackles to life. Aubrey has been fixing some old broken handheld transceivers so they can communicate with each other and with Sanctuary when they’re out in the Commonwealth. They aren't fully functional, so most speech comes through impossibly garbled, but they work well enough for Morse code. His stomach turns over -- it's tuned in to the frequency he and Preston agreed on before they left. Is something going on? Preston is back in Sanctuary without him -- not that Preston needs his help, exactly, it's just that... well, he _worries_.

Preston is tapping out a message; MacCready has to scratch the letters out in the dirt next to him to keep track, but he does his best.

"BABE YOU THERE"

Y, he taps back.

 "GOT A PROMISING PLACE FOR NEW SETTLEMENT"

MacCready frowns at the radio. ?? he sends.

There is a bit of a pause.

"FOR YOUR D"

It's so out of the blue that MacCready starts laughing, one hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds. He hears Dogmeat stir inside and covers his mouth with his scarf; he misses the first part of the next message.

"-- THAT CLEAR NOT SURE"

N, he taps back. CLEAR NOW.

"GOOD"

There is a brief pause -- MacCready can practically see Preston considering what to say next.

"IS THIS WORKING FOR YOU NOT SURE IF WORKING FOR ME"

MacCready snorts. It's... well. Honestly, innuendo about the Minutemen isn't working for him, but the thought of Preston in bed, tapping filthy messages out over a public channel, making that squinty little face he makes when he's doing something a little embarrassing but doing it anyway, very much _is._  

YOURE NOT GREAT AT THIS, he sends.

The reply comes back almost immediately -- 

"LETS SEE YOU DO BETTER!"

MacCready pauses for a second. He... well, he's still on watch, and as much fun as it might be to indulge Preston, he really shouldn't. Besides, there's a much funnier message he _could_  send.

I WANT TO FRICKLE FRACKLE YOU INTO THE HEADBOARD, he sends, grinning.

There is a long, long pause.

"EARLY DAY TOMORROW BETTER CALL IT A NIGHT SEE YOU SOON BABE"

MacCready laughs again, then taps NIGHT into the radio. He tucks it away in his clothes and leans back -- it's still cold out, but it feels a little warmer.

\-------------------

Three days, two super mutant suiciders, four mirelurks (and one mirelurk king), one deathclaw, and a truly unimpressive salvage run in an old hospital later, they finally come limping back to Sanctuary. Aubrey is hopped up on Med-X because she used the last Stimpak on Dogmeat; despite her sprained ankle, she refuses to use MacCready for support. She's got a manic look in her eye, and MacCready suspects Curie is going to have to sedate her to patch her up.

...Admittedly MacCready can't actually complain that much. The deathclaw had vaulted a ruined car to take a swing at him and he hadn't been fast enough to dodge. Aubrey has gotten good at stitching since she thawed out, but she's no doctor -- despite her best efforts, he's afraid having to support his boss while injured would be too much, especially since she has several inches and at least forty pounds on him. Still, if the chems wear off or her ankle goes, MacCready will... probably go down under her weight trying to catch her, but he _will_  try. 

"Hey!" Sturges is manning the guard tower at the entrance to Sanctuary; he waves to them, then turns over his shoulder to announce their arrival. Aubrey waves back (and MacCready holds out his hands to steady her as she sways alarmingly), and then Preston and Sturges are hurrying out to meet them and they're home.

\----------

Aubrey's ankle has been bandaged up, and she's been sent to bed -- Deacon told X6 to sit on her if she tries to get up, and MacCready has absolutely no doubt that he will take that suggestion entirely literally. Which means that MacCready is officially off the clock, and can do whatever he wants. Which, in this case, is his... boyfriend. It still feels a little weird to call Preston that, to be honest, but MacCready is settling into it day by day.

"Be careful," Preston says, ignoring MacCready's noise of protest as he pulls away, craning his neck (and coincidentally giving MacCready the perfect opening to nip him, just under his earlobe) to get a look at MacCready's side. "Your sutures -- "

"Who cares about the sutures," MacCready mumbles into the side of Preston's neck.

Preston flips them over without seeming to make any effort, catching both of his wrists above his head with one hand, which would normally annoy MacCready, except he's too busy trying to wrap his legs around Preston and drag him in closer. Preston runs one hand down the side of MacCready's face; he turns to kiss Preston's fingertips, then makes a frankly embarrassing sound when Preston leans down to nip the place MacCready's neck joins to his shoulder. 

Preston pauses for a second -- MacCready can feel him smile against his neck. "What?" he asks, grinding up against him. 

Preston leans back, raking his eyes possessively down MacCready's body. God, all MacCready wants in this entire world is for Preston to _stop teasing him_  and go for it.

"I want -- " Preston begins, MacCready's lips part and he's _sure_  Preston is going to say something utterly filthy. Preston leans in close, his breath ghosting across MacCready's ear; MacCready shivers and tries to wiggle free, but Preston tightens his grip on his wrists.

" _...to frickle frackle you into the headboard_ ," Preston finishes.

MacCready freezes for a second, then -- " _seriously?"_  is all he can manage in his outrage. Preston shakes silently for a second, then starts actually laughing; his grip weakens, and MacCready yanks his way free and immediately starts trying to shove  _the man who betrayed him_  out of bed.

"Preston, you fff -- you _jerk_ ," MacCready says as fervently as he possibly can. Preston is much bigger than he is, though, and despite MacCready's spluttering rage, Preston anchors himself immovably to the headboard, still howling with laughter.

MacCready is... well, he's mad, but -- when Preston laughs like this, he doesn't look nearly so tired as he usually does. The events since Quincy have been hard for him, MacCready knows, and if cockblocking his innocent and long-suffering boyfriend is what it takes to make him happy... well, MacCready is ready to fall on that sword, if need be. Or not fall on it, as the case may be.

"Don't be mad, babe," Preston says, doing his best to fend him off. He catches one of MacCready's hands and kisses the knuckles, still grinning. 

"I hate you," MacCready grumbles, but he's smiling too; he tugs Preston down to kiss him. "And you _owe_  me for letting you sleep here," he adds, pretending like the look Preston shoots him doesn't make him feel all gooey and sweet on him.

"Where else would I sleep?" Preston asks.

MacCready considers his options. "Well, you could fight Dogmeat -- " he offers.

"Dogmeat likes me, he'd be willing to share," Preston says. "And he snores less. And -- hey!" he protests, raising his hands to protect his face as MacCready shoves him to the side and tries to hit him with a pillow. "And doesn't hog the blankets -- mmphf!" He cuts off as MacCready successfully whacks him in the face.

"Ha!" MacCready crows, triumphant -- for about half a second. Preston catches him around the waist and then the two of them are mock-fighting; Preston may be bigger, but MacCready fights dirty and knows all of Preston's ticklish spots. Eventually, after MacCready wrestles Preston into submission and collects his prize (a kiss, and Preston admitting that MacCready is better than him), they fall asleep, still tangled up in each other.

\-----------------

"So here's an idea," Preston says the next morning. They're burrowed under the blankets together -- Aubrey had thrown together a wood stove for their place few weeks ago, but neither had been in any particular mood to get up and light it. Besides, the cold gives them an excuse to stay in bed.

"Hm?" MacCready is sprawled across Preston's chest, which isn't entirely comfortable. Preston's hipbone is poking him, and a pillow would be more comfortable, but from here he soak up as much of Preston's warmth as he can. 

Preston runs his thumb across MacCready's lower lip. "I'm going to _make_  you swear," he says calmly, smiling affectionately at him. 

MacCready frowns at him. "Wait, what?" 

"In bed. I mean, 'frickle frackle'? Babe, that was... _no._ " 

"Wh -- you'd make me break a promise to my son?" MacCready protests -- it's mostly for show, though; warmth is already blooming in the pit of his stomach. "Also you started with the Minutemen, that's not much better."

"I mean, if you want," Preston says, running his fingers through MacCready's hair. "If you don't..."

"I want," MacCready says hastily. "I mean... _god_ , yes." It's embarrassing to say, to be honest, but just  _saying it_  sends a jolt of heat down his body. He wants to know what Preston is going to do _so_  badly -- he's half-hard already, and the openly adoring look Preston gives him doesn't exactly help. "Now?"

Preston looks a little startled. "Wh -- wait, now as in _now_?" 

MacCready is already sitting up properly to straddle Preston's waist, leaning down to kiss him. "Why not? Got somewhere better to be?" 

Preston flips him -- _again_  -- and pins him to the mattress; MacCready grinds against him as he reaches under the bed and gropes around until he manages to find a length of rope. By the time he's got it out, MacCready has already obligingly stuck his hands through the bed frame; in short order he's been tied down. He tests the rope -- it comes as absolutely no surprise that Preston can tie a good knot. 

"Okay," Preston says, running a hand down MacCready's arm. "Okay," he says a second time; he sounds just a little bit nervous. 

MacCready feels a warm rush of affection. "You should kiss me," he adds. It comes out a little breathier than he really means it to, but that's perfectly okay, because Preston complies, sliding a hand down between their bodies to grip him loosely, giving him a few lazy strokes. He sighs against Preston's mouth, leaning back against the pillows.

"How's that?" Preston asks, nipping MacCready's lip.

"No complaints yet," MacCready murmurs, rolling his hips to meet him. 

Preston continues, kissing and nipping at MacCready's neck, working him over with his hands. MacCready is a little confused as to which part of this is supposed to make him cuss, but he's not going to complain -- having the time for a nice leisurely morning in bed with someone frankly too good for him is something he's more than okay with. 

He's close to coming when Preston bites him hard, just under his ear. "Oh, fff -- _Preston_ ," he moans helplessly, as his stomach tightens -- and then suddenly Preston is sitting back, hands folded neatly in his lap, looking as prim as someone's maiden aunt and not at all like he was trying to _kill MacCready_ by not getting him off. 

"Wait, what?" MacCready manages through his frustrated surprise.

"We're in bed," Preston points out, resting his hands on MacCready's hipbones, completely ignoring his whine of complaint. "I think you'll be forgiven if you say 'fuck' in bed. _And_ ," he adds, over MacCready's stuttered protests, "I'll get you off _if_  you swear."

"Oh, come on!" MacCready wails. He manages to hook one leg around Preston's waist and tries his very best to drag him back in. Preston braces himself on his hands and knees above him, close enough MacCready can _almost_  reach him but can't quite get there, and it _just isn't fair_. "You're... arrgh, are you seriously just going to stop?" 

Preston ghosts one finger up the underside of MacCready's cock. "I wasn't planning on _stopping_ ," he says. MacCready straight-up whimpers as his hips buck, trying to increase the friction or contact or _anything_. It is manifestly not enough. "Should I?" Preston asks. He's grinning, too, which just adds insult to injury.

" _Darn_  you, no," MacCready says, glaring at him. 

"Because I can, you know," he says casually. Taking MacCready's cock in his hand, he runs the pad of his thumb over the head, pulling away a little as MacCready attempts to grind into the contact. 

"Don't you _dare_  stop, you motherfff -- _god you're killing me_ ," MacCready wails as Preston lets go entirely. 

"Think about how good it'll be once you swear for me, babe," Preston says -- aside from the fact that he's blushing spectacularly and apparently can't stop grinning, he is calm enough he might as well be discussing weapon mods. 

MacCready makes an incoherent noise and flops back against the bed, glaring up at Preston. "Make me," he says, sticking out his tongue -- which, as much as he meant it as a challenge, he'd been kind of half-hoping Preston wouldn't _take_  it as one. Preston shrugs, still grinning, and returns to the task at hand.

This time he does his best to be as quiet as possible -- if he doesn't make any noises at all, he reasons, chewing hard on his lip and writhing under Preston's mouth, then he'll be able to just... sneak past unnoticed. And then Preston swallows around him and he moans as his stomach tightens -- which turns into a high whine in the back of his throat as Preston stops, _again_. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bites down hard enough to taste blood.

When he opens them again, Preston is hovering above him, looking equal parts worried and smug. "You doing okay there, babe?" he asks, rubbing a thumb across MacCready's lips.

His self-control snaps. "Fucking _fuck me already_ , you fucker!" he manages, then Preston is kissing him, grinding up against him as MacCready gasps into his mouth. "Fuck -- wait, wait, hold on," he gasps, pulling free and yanking at the ends of the rope as best he can.

"Here -- " Preston says, his voice gratifyingly hoarse, as he lets go and reaches up to untie the rope. It's right there, so MacCready takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue across Preston's nipple as Preston fiddles with the rope. 

As soon as he's free, MacCready shoves Preston over onto his back, rolling his hips to rub their cocks together, then reaching down between their bodies to jerk them both off. He buries his face in the side of Preston's neck, gasping for breath. He's close, _so_  close -- and then Preston grabs him by the hair, pulling his head back enough that they can kiss, and he comes hard, yelping against Preston's lips. 

Preston pushes him off, his hand still in MacCready's hair; it would be the good and boyfriendly thing to do to actually help, but MacCready is already spent and goes without protest. Preston finishes himself off, coming nearly silently, still kissing him; afterwards, they lie there for a few minutes, curled around each other and breathing hard.

Finally, MacCready shifts, wrinkling his nose. "I'm _sticky_ ," he complains.

Preston stretches lazily, then curls an arm around MacCready's waist, pulling him in close. "Tends to happen," he says, his words muffled by the fact that he seems to be trying to burrow into MacCready's shoulder. 

"Here, just -- " MacCready fights his way free of both Preston and the covers, ignoring Preston's pout, and collects yesterday's shirt, cleaning himself up quickly. Preston deigns to stop trying to cuddle MacCready long enough to do the same, then wraps himself securely around MacCready's frame. 

"Love you," Preston mumbles, already half-asleep.

Preston is heavy; it takes a certain amount of effort (and also elbowing him once in the ribs) to get him to let go enough for MacCready to turn around so they're face to face. He kisses Preston on the mouth, and is rewarded by a faint, sleepy smile. 

"I love _you_ ," MacCready says, watching Preston's eyes flutter shut. 

He probably should get up -- there's always something important that needs to get done in Sanctuary. He's not going to, though, not right now -- he snuggles closer to Preston, closes his eyes, and soon falls asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've posted with my name on in years, and the first explicitly smutty thing I've written ever. In light of that, thanks to the multitude of people who either read this and gave me feedback, or held my hand while I wailed about being embarrassed (or who did both); you guys are champs.


End file.
